


Ground and Pound

by dance_tilyouredead



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Fluffy Ending, I'm so far past the line I can't even see it any more, MMA AU, Mixed Martial Arts, Porn With Plot, Seriously there will be tooth decay, This is women beating the shit out of each other. For fun. And money. And sexual tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-09
Updated: 2015-09-12
Packaged: 2018-04-19 22:07:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4762787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dance_tilyouredead/pseuds/dance_tilyouredead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tonight only, reigning champ Lexa ‘The Commander’ Woods faces newcomer Clarke ‘Supernova’ Griffin in the Bantamweight throw down of the century!</p><p>or, that MMA AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Emclainable leading me astray with fic ideas again? Several of the words are written by her, so yup.
> 
> Apologies to anyone who actually knows anything about MMA.

 

 

 

> _Mixed Martial Arts. Unarmed combat involving the use of techniques from different disciplines of the martial arts. It can appear to be a brutal blood sport, but fighters are highly skilled athletes. Techniques include, without limitation, grappling, submission holds, kicking and striking._

"Bellamy where the fuck is Octavia?" Raven shouts across the gym and Clarke wants to tell her off for swearing but then kicks her toe on a medicine ball.

 "Fuck. Who put this here?" She hefts the fifteen pound weight and tosses it onto a wall rack one-handed. "Octavia? Clean up your shit will you?" 

Clarke stands to gaze across the gym floor. There's the typical yummy-mummies in Abby's spin class, and a few meatheads taking advantage of Monroe's weights. Raven is chatting up the girl who was supposed to be Octavia's next client. 

On the far wall is Clarke's pride and joy. A whole array of weights, throw ropes, and punching bags set up behind a regulation standard ring.

Emotion blooms in her chest at the perfection of the Ark. Finn never understood her vision for this place. 

(She tries to not think about Finn anymore.)

Octavia's voice floats across the floor. "Don't get any ideas Clarke. Marriage equality doesn't extend to gym equipment." 

Clarke spins around. "Don't mess with me, O, you know how long I've been single f—fucking hell..." Her voice drifts off when she sees Lincoln trail in through the front door behind Octavia. They both look guilty but determined. 

"Lincoln's gonna come work here, okay?" There's just enough of a question in her voice that Clarke lets it go. 

"You do realise how much trouble this is gonna cause, right?" 

Raven appears at her side, throwing an arm around her shoulders. "Chill, Princess. This isn't gang warfare. This is women beating the shit out of each other. For fun. And money. And sexual tension." 

Clarke sighs and takes a deep breath counting to ten.

//

 

> _Ground and Pound: A strategy where a competitor takes his opponent to the ground and unleashes a flurry of punches and elbows to try to finish a fight._

"Artigus, where's Lincoln?" Lexa should have known by the way everyone was avoiding her that something was wrong. 

Gustus is stacking tumbler mats away after the kids classes, and he looks up. "Lexa, he's not here."

Lexa frowns, and not just because the children have left sticky handprints everywhere. "Why not?" 

Gustus' eyes flick down to her hands which have balled into fists. "He submitted his notice this morning." He glances out the front doors and Lexa knows.

"Fucking Arkers," she growls.

A strong arm wraps around her shoulders, and Anya bumps their hips together. "Now now, Little Lex. I'm pretty sure it's only the one Arker that Lincoln's fucking."

She jabs an elbow into Anya's side, grabs the arm slung over her shoulder and throws Anya onto her back in the pile of mats. Gustus only just gets out of the way and Echo laughs as Indra shouts at all of them to clear that mess up. 

(If Lexa is angry, Indra is in a rage.)

Anya stands up with a smirk. “Sloppy. Again." 

Training kicks in earlier everyday. A small bonus is getting to punt her usual kids classes off onto someone else. Even better, if Lexa keeps getting stronger and faster the way she has been... Well, the prize money alone could keep the gym alive a whole lot longer. 

//

 

> _Hook: A punch where the competitor cocks her arm at a 90-degree angle in front of her body, with the force coming from the side rather than straight on._

Finishing her paperwork, Clarke does one last walk around the floor. She flicks off all the lights except the back wall. Bag still suspended for her, she strips down to fight gear, wraps up her hands and pours all the days stress out through her fists. The creak of chains is familiar and comforting. 

“This place is nice." A quiet voice makes Clarke jump. Behind her Lexa Woods is gazing around the dark gym, arms held across her chest.

“Shit." Heart thumping from fright, Clarke lets her arms fall. "What are you doing in here?" 

Lexa smirks at the slip of concentration. They’ve never actually met, but sometimes formal introductions are unnecessary. They know who they are and understand instinctively that neither one of them likes the other. 

"You have acquired a new trainer." Arms dropping casually, she lets boredom colour her tone, though everything about this situation interests her. 

(Rivals are interesting.)

She runs a hand over the ropes surrounding the ring. "One of my people."

Clarke shakes her head, going back to hitting the bag. "I didn't acquire anyone. He showed up. Apparently things were awkward at his old place." She emphasises the words with cracking jabs. 

Lexa knows Clarke won't understand. Few people understand Indra. But Lexa knows Indra will come around and she’ll give Lincoln a chance to come back – to bring Octavia with him most likely. 

But for now, "You will take care of him?"

Clarke grabs the bag to stop it swinging; Lexa speaks in a strangely formal, accented pattern that she can't place. She can hear how much Lexa cares for her people though. Lexa's a leader. A thoughtful, considerate one at that. 

Clarke isn't too big a person to admit that she has a thing for leadership qualities. Wells, Bellamy some years ago, her art school professor, Finn once he stopped dicking around all the time (and until he started dicking around again). 

Raven says Clarke has daddy issues, Octavia says mommy issues and Clarke says they both need to shut the hell up. 

Lexa is expecting an answer from her though. Of course she'll take care of Lincoln. But Lexa doesn't know that, doesn't know her. "I take care of _all_ my people," Clarke says. 

Lexa nods because that’s the answer she was hoping for. May have been what she expected. Clarke is panting, sweat falling down her face, arms and body shining in the dim lights. She wipes her brow with one wrist and Lexa follows the movement.

Clarke is young, strong and as clean-cut as her Ark gym. Lexa has tried to picture her own gym like this. Filled with new machines, fresh equipment with the time and money to keep it that way. But Lexa’s future is as uncertain as it’s ever been. As uncertain as it’s been since Costia.

Clarke, wearing bike shorts and a crop, is in perfect shape, not as lean as Lexa, but clearly strong. Lexa scans her body for any small detail which might give her the advantage. There's scar tissue just below her right shoulder, her left arm and side covered in tattoos. Her legs aren't as long as Lexa's, though with the way Clarke's calves and thighs flex just standing she doubts that would stop her. 

(Clarke is definitely a rival.)

Clarke has stopped moving, watching Lexa size her up from head to toe. Checking shoulders, strike range, and to Clarke's amusement, glancing over her chest, hips, and as she turns away to grab a towel Lexa's eyes drift to her ass for just long enough to be obvious. 

"I do not trust you. Nor do I like you,” Lexa says without preamble. “But Lincoln has made his choice."

Clarke's eyes narrow as she squares up, amusement gone. Trying to get a grasp on who this girl is. "We all make choices, Lexa."

(What kind of choices does Lexa Woods make?)

There's a tiny movement in her shoulders and then Lexa is standing much too close to her. She’s close enough she can see the deep fissures in Lexa’s iris. The colour is a peculiar grey in the dim. She notices that Lexa’s skin is warm. She wonders if Lexa runs just a little hotter than most people. 

"Not even Lincoln can help you reach my level. The title belongs to us." Lexa’s voice is smooth, sweet as honey dripping over stone.

Clarke won’t be swayed. “That's the funny thing about titles. They have to be earned."

Lexa huffs a laugh and glares around at the equipment, the new bikes and machines spread across the floor. "Don't mistake your shiny new toys from Daddy for something you earned, Clarke." 

She spits out her name like a slur. 

(Lexa doesn’t know.)

Clarke feels her words like a punch to the gut. She knows the feeling well. 

Clarke drops her towel and turns to lift her fists back to the bag. It’s better than taking a swing at the competing gym manager's pretty face. Like Octavia said, this isn't gang warfare. Lexa’s just trying to get into her head. "Don't mistake me for someone you know anything about, Lexa." Clarke's shoulder starts to ache as she pummels the bag and knows that Lexa has already plunged in deep under her skin. 

When Clarke looks up again, Lexa is gone. 

//

 

> _Back Control: A position where a competitor gets behind her opponent and controls them by wrapping her legs around their back and digging her heels (also known as “hooks") into the opponent’s thighs, while also controlling the torso and arms from behind_.

The morning light is harsh as it streams in through the Ark’s front doors. Raven insisted on bringing Party Animal Clarke Griffin out on the town last night. Raven challenged her, and Clarke can never resist a challenge. Even if she doesn’t remember what that challenge was (Bellamy assures her it was a worthy one). 

Regardless of the hangover, Clarke is trying to plan out the new gym schedule while stacking drinks into the vending machine. Mind numbing labor is usually good for focusing on boring business crap. Today though she keeps getting distracted, her gaze drifting out the doors and across the highway to Lexa’s gym.

Clarke hasn’t seen her since she showed up after close last week. Having never met the woman before it should have been simple to forget about her, even while training with Lincoln. But she’s riled up. On the defensive. She wants to do something, to confront Lexa in some way. Instead, she just sits here feeling caged-in and pent up. 

With a frown Clarke forces her attention back to the fridge. Before she can finish, Raven shoves a phone in front of her face blocking the machine. Dragging her case of gatorade closer Clarke asks what the hell she's meant to be looking at. 

"League schedule’s up." Raven tries to force the phone in front of her nose again.

"I can look at it later."

"Will you just glance at the goddamn phone, Clarke?" Raven kneels in close to her ear. "Clarke," she sings then sticks out her tongue to lick the shell of her ear. 

Clarke doesn't flinch or look up and Raven sighs and stand back up. Once she's done Clarke stands, stomps the empty carton flat and closes the machine door. "Okay," she says wiping the moisture from her ear and smirking at Raven's grimace. "Now I can look." 

Again, Raven lifts her phone, familiar league site open. Expecting to see the full table she has to focus on the header that Raven has zoomed in on. A fighter has been photoshopped against a dark, volcanic background; Lexa Woods looking wild and deadly has her fists up, hands wrapped, her hair immaculate and no mouthguard. Clarke recognises a photoshoot. 

The league insisted they all meet with a photographer to boost the photo content on the website and hopefully attract some fresh talent. Lexa is a good choice, Clarke thinks, hating that it's true. A champion, an incredible fighter, gym manager and beautiful girl, all in one, Lexa Woods is the perfect choice. 

"Why am I caring? The Trigeda Gym will get a boost, not enough for us to worry about."

Raven rolls her eyes, pulls the phone back and pushes the image left a few times. Lexa isn't the only one getting a high profile on the league schedule. Clarke’s own photoshoot features on the other side. A waterfall opposes Lexa's molten rock.

"Holy shit." She snatches the phone back so she can pinch in and see what the hell is happening. 

At least her tattoos look good, she thinks. The gladiola flower high on her shoulder shines against the dark background. Compass, small butterfly and twisted branches underneath it all contrasting darkly. 

Lexa looks annoyingly flawless as always, her tattoos less colourful but no less beautiful; black lines and angular swirls of black contrast against bronzed skin. Lines of script flow out from under her crop but aren’t clear enough to read. The contrast boost to the photo makes her abs look even more chiselled than usual. They both look carved from marble.

There's a logo set between them but otherwise the website has made it look like she and Lexa are ready to face off in front of a stadium crowd. 

"Holy shit," she says again.

"Exactly." Raven nods. "You ready for this, Princess?"

//

"Of course I am not ready," Lexa groans leaning back against the couch. She and Anya got all the way home to their apartment before Indra sent her a text to check the site. Anya pulled up the link on Lexa's iPad, burst out laughing and then handed the tablet over without a word. 

"Why?" Lexa cries to the universe. "What were they thinking?"

Anya kicks off her shoes and lies down with her feet in Lexa's lap before answering. “They were thinking that you two would look hot together." She retaliates against the flick to her shins with a heel dug into Lexa's thigh. "And they were thinking that you’re going to have one hell of a fight when you go for the top of a ten fight streak, Little Lex."

"But Clarke Griffin?" Lexa asks, incredulous.

"Yes?" Anya pulls out her phone, done with focusing on Lexa's little meltdown.

"Ark Gym, Clarke Griffin, will hit a nine fight streak?"

Anya shrugs and continues scrolling through her phone until Lexa pinches her achilles tendon hard. "Ow, fuck. Yes. Haven't you seen her?"

"Yes. when she got flattened by Monroe last year." 

Anya rolls her eyes and hauls herself back up into a sitting position. She holds out her hand until Lexa hands over the iPad. Anya taps in Lexa's password, navigates to youtube and pulls up Clarke's latest fight. "Here. Tell me that isn't a beautiful thing to watch." 

She falls onto her back again, phone up but not switched on as she watches Lexa watch Clarke in all her 720p glory. 

She's watched it four times already and knows exactly what Lexa is seeing. Three minutes of showmanship, stats and click-bate commentary is followed by 128 seconds of technically flawless brutality. "Holy shit." Lexa breathes, scrubbing back over the same part that Anya did. Clarke managed to take down her opponent so hard that it took her a full five minutes to find her feet. "Holy shit," Lexa says again. "When was this?" 

"About five months ago," she shrugs. "Same time the Ark got all their new equipment."

Lexa's brow goes up in question. "You think she's using?" Fresh flood of money coincides with a boost in strength… Clarke wouldn’t be the first. 

Anya shakes her head. "Only if anger is a drug. Check out the gifs on Tumblr. Girl's got some rage."

Lexa switches apps and searches for Clarke Griffin. She's a fan favorite already with the league posting her lovely face all over everything. There's even shorter fights than the one she just watched and Lexa opens each and every one of them. Anya's right. Clarke has some technique and a lot of strength. But she also has anger, and lots of it.

//

> _Clinch: A position where competitors try to control each other’s bodies by wrapping their arms around one another, fighting for good arm and hip position, frequently as a precursor to a takedown attempt. The clinch looks a bit like hugging, but is not affectionate._
> 
> _Note that the excessive use of grease or any other foreign substance may not be used on the face or body._

“I’m gonna kill him." Clarke stomps across the gym pushing random Dudebros out of her way.

Raven and Octavia both intercept Clarke at the weights and try to calm her down.

"He was trying to up the site's profile," Octavia explains gently. "Figured some girl on girl would get the clicks."

"Yeah, well now this girl is gonna beat the clicks right out of him."

Raven and Octavia share a look which becomes a giggle fit for Octavia forcing Raven to take up the defensive. "Murphy is a creep, but he's our creep, Clarke." And without him one of them would have to maintain the website and no one wants that. 

“But why this shit, Raven?” she holds up her phone to show the masterfully manipulated image of Lexa and Clarke tangled up in the ring, looking exactly like two well oiled porn stars in gloves. The fact that she and Lexa have never fought, and that Clarke absolutely does not have a tramp stamp on her lower back or a lipstick kiss tattoo on her inner thigh doesn’t need to be mentioned. They all know. 

A deep male voice pipes up behind them. “I think it’s hot.” The beefcake (Derek, Dirk, something beginning with D) looks away when all three girls turn to glare at him. He foolishly pretends he was only taking selfies in the weights mirror. 

“Clarke,” Raven warns. “Remember how we like our paying members?”

Abby has told Clarke that she needs to breathe more. Right now, Abby can shove her breathing techniques up her ass. 

Clarke turns with a slow swagger and stalks up behind Mr Instagram, smiling through the mirror. “It’s Dion right?” 

“Ah, Damon,” he grunts not sure whether to flirt back.

“Right, that’s what I said.” Clarke giggles a little and Raven leans back with Octavia to enjoy the show. “So, Deakon. You think I’m hot?”

Clarke is well into his space now, looking up through her lashes. The poor idiot can’t help himself. He puffs out his chest. “Ah, sure.”

In the mirror Clarke can see an agreement pass in whispers between Raven and Octavia who stand shoulder to shoulder. She doesn’t care what they’re betting on; Derek has all her focus now. 

She trails her fingers up his wrist and taps the top of his phone once. “I’ll bet you get lots of attention on social?” 

Dillon nods, his head swaying on a neck thicker than Clarke’s thigh. She smiles again, sweet enough that he doesn’t notice when she picks up his half gallon protein shake. “Gotta document those Work-Out-Days right?” As Denton keeps nodding Clarke pulls the lid off and tugs the phone out of his paw.

Devon jumps back from the splash as his phone plops into his powdery protein goop. “What the fuck?”

“Oh gosh.” Clarke gasps in mock surprise, handing him the drink. “Now how are you going to collect all those likes and little hearts?” She pretends to think before grinning. “Oh I know!” She reaches up with one finger and double taps him hard between the eyes. In slow simple terms Clarke says, “I. Validate. You,” then pointing to the door she stands up straight, firms her shoulder and adds, “Now get the fuck out of my gym!”

The round of applause she receives follows Mr D. Steroid out onto the street and Clarke only feels a little bit bad for the guy. 

Raven’s clap is the loudest having won twenty bucks off Octavia for knowing Clarke was gonna drench his phone rather than kick him in the nuts. “Now don’t drown my phone, Princess but, it is kinda hot.” 

Clarke glares at her  but with a distraction  from a non selfie-taking member she conveniently forgets that she wanted to axe-kick Murphy.

//

“I’ll kill him,” Lexa grunts through her last sit-up. 

“Gustus is the only one who knows how to keep this place in cash monies, Woods and a nice little photo shoot is easy money that's hard to book." Anya slaps the back of Lexa’s head. “Another twenty for being sloppy. And focus.”

Lexa settles back on the floor and starts counting again in sharp breaths through the crunches. “How would you like someone volunteering you for Sports Illustrated.”

“I was flattered. Now stop your whining and concentrate. Or you won’t have to worry about any shoot. They only want you if you can prove this fight with Princess Griffin is gonna be half as badass as the league is making it out to be.”

Lexa snorts. “She will need to master miracles first. Roma Sterling is going to defeat her soundly if she's not polishing her technique. And that is a terrible name. ” Lexa gets to the last sit-up and stands, batting Anya's hands away from her abs. 

Anya of course retaliates by slapping Lexa’s ass as she steps into their practice ring.  “And what name should you prefer?” Anya mimics her diction.

Echo is already there, mouth guard in, and Lexa stretches out her shoulders thinking over the videos she’s seen of Clarke. She’s strong, brutal, has a lot of fire. But she could burn out if the fight goes any longer than three rounds. 

Lexa snorts a laugh. “Fire Cracker?”

“That’s worse than Princess.” 

“She can defeat Roma though?” The hope in her own voice annoys her so much she slips in the mouthguard. Lexa Woods does not hope for things.

“Don’t worry, even with all the drama that perv Murphy kicked up she’s still got the drive, same as you. She doesn’t need the money as much as we do but, well…” she shrugs. The endorsements a fight like this can bring the gym is what counts.

Echo is two weight classes above her and grounds Lexa in less than twenty seconds. 

“Dammit Lexa!” Anya slaps her hands over the ropes that edge the ring. “Get that Arker out of your head will you. Pretty blondes are just a weakness. And we’ve got a long hard road ahead.”

Lexa spits the plastic guard out of her mouth, breathing hard. Blondes are weakness, love is weakness, both are distracting (Costia was distracting). She wonders what Clarke’s distractions are. When they fight, will Clarke have her own swirling thoughts? She frowns at herself, trying to imagine the future, always so uncertain.

A kick to her ankle brings Lexa back to the present and Echo smirks, pursing her lips to blow a kiss in her direction – The Official Reminder™ of that image which has been well circulated around the gym. 

“Ouch,” she grumbles as Echo pulls her to standing. Lexa wonders if Clarke really has red lips inked onto her upper thigh. 

Echo winks and Lexa responds with a glare that says she’s not above firing her own cousin for cheek. 

“Supernova,” Lexa says after a beat, smiling at her abstract mental leap.

Echo looks as confused as Anya. 

“Clarke should be called Supernova. She burns hot and bright. She is very pretty but will expend all her energy and collapse.”

Echo frowns but Anya laughs. “You’re such a nerd, Lex.”

(Lexa wonders what name Clarke would give her.)

"God, I hate that girl.” She sighs and pushes her mouthguard back into place.

//

“I hate her.” Clarke leans against the gym’s main counter, ignoring members to watch Lexa’s latest fight on youtube for the thirteenth time. The Commander’s win brought her streak to nine. And it was beautiful.

Octavia slaps Raven’s butt on her way to join Clarke and takes over exchanging people’s car keys for lockers. “You’re not watching those again are you?” 

Clarke collapses face first on the counter-top, phone outstretched to show " _Lexa Woods demolishes Ice Gym Champion – You won’t believe what happens thirty seconds in!’_.

“She’s flawless.” Clarke grumbles against her arm. 

“She’s beauty and she’s grace, she’ll kick you in the face,” Octavia sings tunelessly. “So, can you believe what happens thirty seconds in?”

Clarke groans again. “It’s thirty two seconds in and no, I can’t believe it. She kicked the girl in the jaw twice in less than a second with this ridiculous pirouet version of a spinning back kick. I’m approximately one hundred and twenty three percent sure that she used to be a ballerina.” 

Octavia laughs and Clarke mumbles out a few more incoherent sentences before pushing back from the counter and announcing she’s going to go work out, maybe get some more time in with Lincoln or Bellamy. 

“Big surprise,” Octavia mumbles under her breath. 

Clarke hears and flips her the finger as she walks away, and Octavia catches it from the air like a kiss to put away in her pocket.

//

 

 

 

> _Tap Out: Competitors can tap the mat or their opponent to signal that they want her to stop.  Submission usually occurs because the fighter is in pain or in danger of being put to sleep._

Octavia, Lincoln, Raven and Bellamy all pile into Raven's van for the trip out. The warehouse turned fight arena is in some outer suburb none of them have heard of. And Clarke's nervous. She knows she's stronger, better than her opponent.  

Maya Vie is fresh meat even compared to Clarke. She's won a couple fights but just doesn't have the fire to really compete. Mount Weather likes to put as many fighters as they can onto the schedule though. Whether they're ready for it or not. Trial by fire.

“Quantity over quality as always,” Clarke comments.

“I think their slogan is actually Can you Survive The Mountain.” Lincoln is serious but the others laugh because it really is the worst tagline. Appropriate for the worst of the big chain gyms. They lock their members in and drain them dry.

There must be a thousand people waiting by the time Clarke is ready to enter the arena. There's cheering, heckling calls and loudest of it all, the commentators voices bellowing out her stats over a crackling PA. “Twelve fights, three concedes, and one loss,” roars through the stadium. “Seven fight streak. Will The Supernova Clarke Griffin fall to Maya of The Mountain?” 

Bellamy is rubbing her shoulders while Lincoln gives her his last minute pep talk. “She might be fresh but that can make her unpredictable. Don't let your guard down, and stay away from the flashy finish. Wear her down. Keep it clean.” Lincoln repeats everything he's been saying all week, his words washing over her as Maya’s stats are read out.

“Maya is fresh faced new born with only three registered fights, two wins. But as a Mountain Fighter we'll hold our judgment until…”

The usual nonsense flows over the crowd and Lexa, hanging back in the shadowed corners of the room doesn't need to listen. She's scanning all the side entrances trying to guess which one Clarke will be coming through. She'd rather not run into her. As a professional courtesy, she'll stay out of her way.

"Here, take this—." Anya, holding out a can of light beer, makes Lexa jump half way out of her skin. "Jeeze, tense much? Why are you still all the way back here. I thought you wanted to see her fight."

Lexa accepts the can and drains half of it in one gulp to calm the buzzing in her fingertips. “Yes but she doesn't need to know I'm here." Lexa scans the doorways again and even bends slightly at the knees to duck under the average head-height of the crowd.

Anya looks between Lexa and the cage trying to figure out what the hell is wrong with her fighter. "Why are you being such a freak? This is a spectator sport. You're allowed to come watch." Lexa just shrugs and Anya scowls. “We're going closer." She's not afraid to put on her big coach voice if the kid's going to be an idiot about this. 

Lexa still scans all the doors as Anya drags her in close enough to see the bleached out blood stains on the mat. 

//

 

 

 

> _Rear Naked Choke: A choke executed from back control where a competitor wraps one bare arm around her opponent’s neck and reinforces that grip with the other arm to force a tap out._

Clarke peeks around the door scanning a crowd of faces for any she knows. This far out of town it's not quite the regular crowd, but still, she does see a few friendly faces. Octavia and Raven are sitting on the floor near the outer edges, legs tangled together and completely ignoring anything that isn’t each other. _So much for support_ , Clarke thinks. 

Closer to the cage she can see a couple regulars from the gym. Closer still she spots two women who could only be fighters. The smaller of the two is watching all of the doors looking between each one as if waiting for someone. She turns and Clarke gasps.

'What is it?" Lincoln's head snaps up at the sound.

Clarke bites the inside of her cheek. "Nothing," she says, unable to explain what had been so shocking. 

She was just... Surprised to see Lexa there so suddenly. After watching every video online more times than she can count it's strange to see her here in high-definition reality. Stranger still to see her wearing real clothes, her hair long and loose around her shoulders. 

Clarke has her hair braided back along her scalp of course but Lexa doesn't need to worry about hers being grabbed onto tonight. At least, not in the fighting sense. She imagines threading her fingers through the fine chestnut locks.

_Huh._ Clarke makes a small sound of surprise at her wandering train of thought.

Before she can consider it any further the crowd starts stomping and cheering and the sounds from the commentators get louder. "All the way from Atmosford, please welcome The Supernova... Clarke... Griffin!" Clarke lifts her hood up over her head bounces on her toes once, twice, three times before bursting through the door. 

Anya laughs aloud and glances at Lexa wondering how the hell they got that name.

She shrugs but Anya spots something of a proud look as if she definitely did not mention her little metaphor to a blogger or two.

“Nerd.”

However the competing girl is introduced, Lexa doesn't hear it. Once she's caught sight of Clarke she can't see anything else, or hear anything other than her own pounding heart. Clarke jogs through the crowd, hood up, looking every part of fighting fit. Stronger even than when Lexa saw her last. She hates how much she cares.

Clarke shrugs her robe away before she steps into the cage, her arms and shoulders rippling with tense sinew. She has a crease between her brows. There's no anger yet. That comes later.

"Thank god Indra isn’t here."

"What?" Lexa heard Anya because they're standing so close but she doesn't understand.

Anya points to the man who took Clarke's robe and slipped in her mouthguard. Lexa hadn't even seen Lincoln, yet there he is rubbing Clarke's shoulders and muttering last minute advice. Lexa can tell she isn't listening. Maya climbs in at the opposite corner and Clarke glares, something building behind those clear blue eyes.

Clarke knows Lexa is close by. She doesn't look for her though. The girl, Maya has taken her place opposite Clarke. She looks nervous and should be. Clarke wonders if Lexa will show any nerves before their fight, she wonders if Lexa ever gets nervous. 

At ringside Anya can see that Lexa is nervous. "What do you think is going to happen?"

She doesn't answer as Clarke taps her fist against Maya's in the center of the ring. 

The buzzer sounds and both fighters begin to circle, testing each other with feints and halfhearted swings. Clarke watches Maya's form closely, noting how the novice fighter keeps her chin too high, her fists exposing critical areas on her body. The girl looks terrified. Clarke glares, resentment bubbling up in her chest.

She dodges forward, throwing a sharp left jab that Maya only half manages to turn away from. Clarke's padded knuckles clip her jaw and she follows it with a right cross, but Maya skips back out of her reach. 

They circle again. Clarke keeps light on the balls of her feet—always moving, never still just like Jake taught her. Out the corner of her eye she sees Lexa in the crowd. Is she here to see Clarke crush this girl? Well then she'll give her a show. 

Maya is stupid and unfocused, eyes shifting from hands to feet to knees. She imagines Lexa in Maya’s place, all dark sinewy muscle and dancer’s grace. Lexa would never move so slow, would not keep her body this tense. 

Clarke feints again and jumps on the attack with rapid fire jabs. Maya stumbles back, barely blocking the strikes with her forearms and then she's pinned against the cage wall swinging blindly. Clarke knows that Lexa's strikes will have force and intention, her kicks landing with lightning precision. Clarke is not a precise fighter. 

She doesn’t need to be.

Clarke snakes one arm around Maya's neck, the other behind her back, tucking her head against Maya's shoulder, for the takedown. Maya is stronger than she looks, and resists the hold, delivering several well-aimed hits to the side of Clarke's head. She ignores the ringing in her ears, the uneven turn of the ground to pull the clinch tighter. Maya twists and squirms, but Clarke hangs on, fighting against sliding skin. (Lexa's skin, Clarke knows is hotter than most.) 

Clarke knees Maya in the side twice feeling the hard crack of bone against bone all the way up her side while shifting her grip for a tighter hold. Maya drops an arm to tear Clarke's off but she's left herself open. 

From the ground Lexa is feeling as much awe as she had while watching Clarke for the first time. She’s unpredictable, style fluid and the fire in her eyes – Lexa feels that fire burn through to her toes, feels a pull deep in her belly. She wants this, she wants to face Clarke. She tells herself she wants to win, to teach her that fire and brutality is not enough. _I hate her_ , she thinks. (She almost believes it.)

Lexa's heart is in her throat, thumping madly as Clarke twists, shoulder down to flip Maya over, whole body flying onto her back. Maya's barely on the ground before Clarke's taken the mount, wrapped around her in a bruising choke. 

Maya's legs lift to wrap around Clarke's back, trying for side control but Clarke isn’t letting go. She thinks of Lexa's toned thighs wrapped around her in a very different kind of embrace and her hold slips. Maya almost twists free and Clarke curses, grappling on again, this time wrapped around her back, heels dug into her thighs. Clarke pulls Maya's arm away from her body, twists it up and back, testing the strength of her elbow.

Maya taps out of the bar hold. Clarke learns later that the fight lasted 48 seconds. 

//

Once she’s standing again, anger and adrenaline fade. Clarke hands the belt to Bellamy, and towels off the minimal sweat before jumping down into the crowd. She wants to know how Lexa thought the fight went. Understanding how Lexa saw her style could reveal a lot about her opponent. With any luck she's arrogant enough to point out all Clarke's flaws. 

(She hopes Lexa doesn’t see her flaws.)

Lexa hasn't taken her eyes off of Clarke once since that Mountain girl hit the mat. Anya doesn't know what it will take to regain her attention so she decides to play.

"So what would you like to do _meow_?" She tries and gets nothing more than a vague grunt in reply. Lexa continues to stare away into her own universe. As per the usual. "How about chuck e cheese? You know, I was thinking about hooking Indra up with Gustus."

"If you want." Leda nods vaguely until she catches up and almost dislocates her neck to turn around. 

Anya smiles at the hint of regret in her eyes. "Meow you're listening? Fine, we can have your lean chicken and leafy greens with dressing on the side bullshit. But I'm getting a steak, Nerd." 

Lexa looks like she wants to punch  Anya really hard but then something else catches her attention. Clarke has slipped into the crowd, Lexa honest to gods squeaks like a mouse and tries to drag her back toward the doors.  

"You're allowed to be here," Anya reiterates, doing her best impression of dead weight. But Lexa isn't listening, the panic in her eyes is real. And hilarious. Anya wants to see this, see her fighter meet the girl she's been obsessing over for weeks. With a final grunt Lexa gives up and power walks away.

Clarke does a full circle around the ring, hunting for the very specific colour and shine of hair that had backgrounded her fight. Lexa was here when Maya tapped out, she's sure of it.  

"She's run off," a voice says and Clarke spins. The woman Lexa was with, the other fighter is smirking at her. 

"Run off?" Clarke glances around once more.

Still smirking the woman is observing Clarke from head to toe, assessing every aspect of her body. It could be uncomfortable if Clarke wasn't doing the same thing. Of course she is dressed for a fight whereas Anya, dressed for a Friday night, looks like sex on legs.

She should really go back to the locker room but she holds out her hand between them instead. "I'm Clarke." Her hand hangs for an uncomfortably long time before a blur of human rushes into her side and she can smell Raven, hear her laugh, exuberant in one ear. 

"Jesus Princess, you flattened that chick. I thought you were meant to be encouraging girls to join this so called sport." 

Clarke laughs, hugging her back. "She pissed me off."

"She was terrified of you."

"Exactly."

A voice interrupts them to say "Anya." The introduction is brusque as expected. _Anya_ still doesn't offer to shake Clarke's hand and the smirk is firmly in place, only directed at Raven this time. 

Raven tips her chin up in greeting. "Raven. Where's Commander Scowlsalot?"

"Split," Clarke answers still not sure how she feels about that. 

"O and Lincoln too."

"So much for my rub down," Clarke grumbles mostly joking.

Raven's arm shoots up. "I volunteer," She laughs.

Anya raises one eyebrow, and Raven feels the way her eyes scan from her mouth, down her body and over the tricky carbon prosthetic she’s absolutely owning from the knee down. She examines Raven the same way she did Clarke. The same way but different.

It's the different part that Raven appreciates most and she immediately demotes Clarke to a secondary priority.  

//

 

 

 

> _Mount: A ground position where one competitor is on her back with the other facing her. The competitor on her back will wrap her legs around the other who drives their hips forward to maintain pressure. People who are competing may “take the mount” or may “be mounted.” This position is very advantageous for the person on top and very dangerous for the person on the bottom._

Diana Sydney wears her highest heels and tightest skirt to visit both fighters on the same day, with the same innocent smile. She approaches them both in the ring. 

At the center of Ark gym’s fighting ring, Clarke Griffin is red faced and sweating. With fists up she barely glances Diana’s way.

Raven Reyes – paralympic gold medalist, engineer and personal trainer – had intercepted Diana at the door but Raven’s not the story today. 

"Clarke this chick wants some words." 

"Unless those words are fuck off," Clarke pants as she dances around another young fighter (Octavia Blake has been gaining some buzz but is still fresh meat). "Or thank you for that million dollars and pile of cocaine. Then this _chick’s_ going to be disappointed." 

Octavia smirks at Raven who assures Diana that Clarke was joking. “We only ever snort the finest sherbet.”

Diana doesn't put her phone away or turn off the recorder attached to it. "You must be training long hours with the Woods fight coming up." She places her emphasis carefully. 

Clarke's elbow strike misses its mark by half an inch, enough to glance off and make her balance falter. Diana represses a smirk noting her focus is less stable than Lexa Woods'. 

At Trigeda Gym she had been met by Indra  Vine . Revolutionary fighter in her time, Indra was watching her young protégé train but had little involvement. Diana will be using the ex-champion-passes-the-torch angle in her piece but she knows better than to attempt an interview with the champion. 

Knowing that Lexa wouldn't actively consent to an interview either, Diana dove straight in. “So what do you think about Clarke Griffin?”

Her trainer and opponent – Anya Woods, Olympic Kickboxing Silver medalist – clapped her gloves together to regain Lexa’s attention. Lexa ignored Diana for a long moment. “Griffin really is something. Supernova.” She smirked, her voice holding a joke that Diana must be missing.

Diana almost frowned. “The Supernova is getting a lot of buzz. You both are…” She trailed off and, receiving no answer charged on through. “Do you think the new moniker could indicate a bright future?”

Lexa strikes her opponent with three sharp jabs then a swift left hook. “The future never seems that bright to me.”

Diana hadn’t expected that sentiment but she’ll need to come back to it later. “There’s also rumours of some bad blood between you?”

The misplacement of Lexa’s leg strike was so small Diana could have missed it if she were anyone else. 

Diana doesn’t need to watch Clarke nearly so closely to read her; she’s an open book. “So, Clarke. Lexa Woods. A hell of a fighter to compare yourself to.”

Clarke scowls as she blocks a weak attack from her opponent. “Hey, I wasn't the one doing any comparing. The site just put our photos together.”

“And why would they do that?” she asks innocently. 

"How would I know?" Clarke catches her opponent around the middle trying to tangle their legs and get Octavia to the floor. Always the grappler. 

“Do you think Lexa Woods had any part in the decision?”

Clarke holds up both hands and steps out of the fight. Diana notes the sixty six seconds to complete distraction. “I don’t know.” Clarke's eyes drift to the gym doors where she can almost see her opponents gym. She bites at her lip as if wondering over something. 

Lexa had managed to hold out for a full three minutes before her gaze drifted out across the highway that separates their businesses. 

Diana hadn't considered the romance angle before that interview with Woods. It's so cliché as to read like tabloid drivel. And Diana Sydney does not write tabloid drivel. She does, however write  interesting, human stories.  And these two are certainly interesting humans. 

//

 

 

 

> _Guard: A grappling position where one fighter is on her back and has her legs around an opponent, who is either standing or kneeling. A competitor who is in someone’s guard may try to pass the guard and get to side control or the mount, both of which are more offensive positions, though the competitor may also try to land blows from the guard._

Clarke is panting hard, hands and arms burning as she runs through a new ropes regime with Bellamy. “Oh no.” She lets the ropes drop when Raven and Octavia run in, Raven brandishing a shining new copy of Diana Sydney’s article. “How bad is it?” 

“Well,” Raven starts and Clarke groans. “The photo is great.” She’s smirking as she lifts the double page spread out for Clarke to take. 

Clarke pushes hair back from her sweaty face and turns the magazine pages into the light. Paragraphs of text spread across two pages with full color images of herself and Lexa woods printed edge to edge. Both Clarke and Lexa are facing the camera this time, dressed down in their fight gear their hands are taped but no gloves, their hair loose. More photos from the shoot. (They look really good together.)

Echo finds the magazine at the same time Raven does and she wastes no time sharing the good news. The whole gym gathers to critique the spread before Anya snatches the magazine away to read it aloud. Lexa doesn’t even get to see it. She just has to hope she doesn’t look too ridiculous.

Raven tugs the magazine away from Clarke. “Stop hogging the good news, perve.”

“I wasn’t—” Clarke’s cheeks blush pink and then her phone buzzes. "Oh look a distraction."

**Unknown number:  
** This article is grossly inaccurate.

Clarke frowns because everyone she knows is either here or definitely in her phone.

**Unknown number:**    
This is unacceptable and I will be exploring legal recourse. 

"Raven, did you give Anya my number for Lexa to now have and be randomly messaging me with?"

Raven clears her throat, “Oh look a distraction,” and starts reading the article instead of answering. 

_Fatal attraction in the round as managers from two competing gyms tangle in more ways than one._

Clarke feels her face get hotter. “Can she even say that?” 

She sets a new contact for Lexa Woods.

**Ark Manager:  
** I'm reading it now.

Lexa glares at her phone and the slow reply.

_A name you'll know from her clean sweep last year, Lexa Woods has raised the profile of her neighbourhood gym on Trigeda Way, Groundford with spectacular form. She's come out undefeated in her last 8 fights and is showing no signs of slowing down. But there's a new kid on the block who is crossing our Commander in more ways than professional._

Octavia winks at Clarke. “That’s you, Princess.”

Lexa is hating Anya more than usual but glaring at her phone.

**Ark Manager:  
** Is this really happening?

**Lexa Woods:  
** You should be aware that I was egregiously misquoted.

**Ark Manager:  
** Are you always this verbose when embarrassed?

_Clarke Griffin, formerly of Sky Limit Gym in Northern California seemingly appeared out of nowhere last year is now going down on Lexa’s turf._

"Well, that's just unprofessional."

"It's hilarious."

"Okay, fine it's a little funny."

**The Ark Manager** :   
Flawless innuendo, Diana.

Lexa's brow quirks at the sarcasm (she does not smile at a stranger's text message) and changes Clarke's contact.

_And she's making quite the impression. After a few early lacklustre local events the now Ground and Pound Princess took on Becca Caliban and demolished the champion in a ferocious 48 seconds._

Anya skims over the less interesting paragraphs listing their stats. “A ha!” She finds the next good section and starts reading again. Lexa makes a grab for the article but Echo just tugs it away again and holds it high out of her reach before handing it back to Anya.

**Lexa's Turf(Ha):  
** I hope she does not subsist on income raised by her wit alone.

Clarke definitely doesn't smile either as she quickly changes Lexa's contact card again.

_Yet neither young woman could quite conceal the deep personal connection which conflicts with their professional rivalry. Even as this humble reporter tried to maintain a professional distance, discussing the facts of their approaching fight, Woods kept returning our discussion to her opponent’s personal appeal._

Anya pats Lexa's cheek as she says the words ‘personal appeal’.

_“She really is something,” young Woods said of Griffin as she gazed off into the dustier corners of her rough and tumble gym._

Lexa groans, “I said the first part but who was gazing? I wasn’t fucking gazing. And what the hell gym is she calling rough and tumble?” Anya tells her to shush and keeps reading.

_“I could watch her fight all day, the way her eyes sparkle under stadium lights.”_  

“Honestly?! Who would say that?”

**_Thesaurus Woods:_**    
Have I appropriately established the inaccuracy of the statements attributed to me?

 **Clarke 'The Supernova' Griffin:**    
I'm really not sure if you did...

Lexa taps out half a reply before realising Clarke is being facetious. Clarke sees the typing bubble animate for a few seconds then stop.

**Clarke 'The Supernova' Griffin:**    
She can catch on after all.

_The fierce fighter had something of a sparkle in her own eye. Does this reporter dare suggest the word love when discussing the hard hearted woman we know best as The Commander?_

Octavia howls with laughter as Raven reads and Clarke bumps her head against her phone begging them to stop. 

Octavia grabs her shoulders. “But her eyes were sparkling, Clarke,” she sighs dramatically, shaking Clarke to make her understand. “With love!” 

She flutters her eyelashes at Raven who presses a palm over Octavia’s face so she can keep reading.

_Make no mistake the rivalry between these two ferocious fighters is real, the determination to see each other fail, for their own gyms to come out on top is strident. While their postcodes may be different, their potential client base can no doubt overlap. Both are staffed by retired and current champions…_

“Yadda yadda,” Anya waves a hand in the air mumbling over the services and achievements listed for both gyms. “Oh here’s some more.”

_Clarke Griffin is strong, brutal but unseasoned, a definite wildcard. When asked about her own technique, the young fighter immediately compared herself to Woods…_  

“No I didn’t." Clarke tries to snatch the magazine away. 

“Shush Clarke, you’re killing my flow here.”

_“Lexa has this long reach, those incredible arms, you know?” Her sheepish smile could be heard even through my recordings of our private interview. “She’s so fast, precise, like a dancer, light and beautiful as a swan.”_

Anya can barely talk for laughing and Echo takes over. 

**Thesaurus Woods:**    
I imagine your friends are finding this as amusing as mine are.

Octavia is just keeping herself together as Clarke’s cheeks burn. “I know you’ve compared her to a dancer, Clarke.” 

**Clarke 'The Sarcastic Supernova' Griffin:**    
You’re not wrong.

Clarke folds her arms with a huff. “A dancer, sure. Not a fucking Swan.”

_Asked if she would be able to keep up with Ms Woods, Clarke winked._

Staring up at the Ark ceiling, Clarke groans. “I don’t even know how to wink!”

_“Oh I have my ways of pinning her down.”_

_No doubt the grappler can pin Ms Woods against whatever surface is available as evidenced by the brutal fight against the Mountain Gym’s fresh fighter Maya_ _Vie._ _Not many will forget that night the two faced off – two minutes of terrifying reality for the Mountain dreamer._

_Ms Woods was in the crowd to witness the fight first hand but when asked, she became strangely evasive, trying to deny she had been present at all. This reporter must wonder why such denial is necessary._

Anya raises her voice over Lexa's protests. 

_MMA is a Spectator Sport after all._

_And spectators there will be when these two women finally tangle(in the public eye, that is) to determine which fighter will come out on top._

**Clarke 'The Sarcastic Supernova' Griffin:**    
I’m coming over.

The typing dots appear on Clarke’s phone then disappear and don't come back. Clarke takes that as acceptance enough.

//

"Can I speak with you alone?" Clarke’s eyes skate over the other people in Lexa’s gym warily before returning to settle on their manager. 

She hadn’t walked all the way here just to back out now but that doesn’t make her feel any less intimidated. Most of Lexa’s people are laughing, shooting mischievous looks between themselves. Some are glaring at her. (Indra isn’t Clarke’s hero because of her volunteer work.)

Lexa nods. "Yes, of course." She turns on her heel, back even straighter than normal as if daring one of her people to say something.

Lexa closes the office door behind her and Clarke doesn’t attempt any small talk. “I have a fight tonight.”

Lexa nods slowly. “I know.”

“You’re a distraction.”

“I’m a distraction?”

“No,” Clarke closes her eyes as she shakes her head, all her words getting mixed up. She hates Lexa woods and it’s getting in the way of everything. “I need to not be thinking about you.”

“About me?”

“Do you know how to not answer in questions?” Lexa just stares at her impassively and Clarke sighs. “Thinking about this,” she gestures vaguely back into the gym. “It’s all too much in my head at once, alright?”

Lexa thinks she understands. Clarke is an emotional fighter. Anger fuels her strength. And Lexa is a distraction from that. _No, the article is a distraction,_ she corrects herself.

“Don’t come,” she says, abruptly understanding why she came here in the first place. Up against Maya, Lexa’s attention was welcome. Clarke performed for her audience and enjoyed it. But this fight is different. Her opponent is more experienced. And she’s nervous. 

“You’re a distraction,” Clarke says again, dejected, a confused frown pulling at her lips.

“A weakness,” Lexa mutters looking away.

Clarke turns to Lexa’s desk, looking over the paperwork scattered across it. Her desk looks much the same though she has a few more nick nacks and personal things. Lexa’s desk is bare of anything personal other than a couple picture frames. Clarke picks up the frame holding a picture of Lexa with Anya’s arm thrown over her shoulder. Lexa is wearing a graduation gown and cap, Anya a proud grin. _Sisters_ Clarke thinks but says nothing, putting it back down on the desk 

“I need to win this.” Clarke’s eyes shine.

Not understanding, Lexa still nods. 

With nothing else to say, Clarke looks down and moves for the door. 

Lexa stands aside for her but Clarke’s hand still brushes over the back of hers as she goes. Neither turns to look at the other. They only wish they could.

//

Lexa doesn’t go to see her fight. She doesn’t text Clarke good luck. She just stares at the name held in her phone. Long enough for the screen to lock itself and she has to reset the sleep timer to three minutes instead of one. Three minutes to stare at Clarke’s name and not make a decision.

Lexa is lying in bed when Anya texts her the result. Clarke won. Of course. Lexa debates whether or not to send any message. She didn’t send her good luck. Is it strange to send anything else at this point? She writes out something spiteful, then a backhanded compliment, and then an outright insult. 

She turns over in the dark, pulls the blankets up over her shoulder, and pushes a mass of hair back from her face. The screen dims, she taps it awake, it dims again. The last time, she taps out one word and hits send. She immediately regrets the message but there’s nothing she can do to take it back.

Clarke is in her apartment, Octavia snoring softly in her lap, Raven curled behind her and the Disney version of Tarzan playing on the TV across her room. She has a heat pack against her ribs, a cup of hot tea steaming on her bedside table when her phone vibrates. As Clarke reaches for it, Octavia grumbles and cuddles further into Raven instead. The phone is too bright in the dark but she squints against the light. 

**Thesaurus Woods:**    
Congratulations.

‘You’ll be in My Heart’ reaches the last verse. And Clarke smiles.

//

 

 

 

> _Sweep: A move where a competitor who has an opponent in the guard takes away the opponent’s balance, turns her over, and ends up on top, frequently in the mount. Sweeps are dependent upon the sweeper’s ability to remove all of the opponent’s supports on one side, by making it impossible for the opponent to “base out” with a hand or a foot._

It’s early on the morning of their weigh-in when Lexa receives her first message from Clarke. She’s barely awake, brushing her teeth, pyjama pants still on. A blessing of wearing men's pyjamas other than comfort is that they have pockets. The fact that this has become an important consideration in the past few weeks is not worrying per se but it’s not a thought she has taken the time to share with anyone else. 

Lexa swaps toothbrush hands to pull out her buzzing phone again. 

**Clarke 'The Sarcastic Supernova' Griffin:**    
I’m not nervous.

Lexa understands that she isn’t meant to believe this.   


**Thesaurus Woods:**    
You should be.

Clarke will know she means the opposite. 

**Clarke 'The Sarcastic Nervous Supernova' Griffin:**    
What was the league thinking?

Clarke is working out some of her anxiety. She’ll have to leave soon. In the mean time, she’ll lay her stress into the bag, while she’s waiting for Lexa’s reply. The first was more reassuring than it should be. 

She leaps to her phone when it buzzes but doesn’t unlock it straight away. She takes a drink first, makes slow work of removing her gloves, lays them aside then opens the message.

**Thesaurus Woods:**    
A trained monkey couldn’t fail a weigh in. You should be fine.

Clarke laughs. But the nervous energy that’s been shooting around her body all morning still zapps along her fingertips when she replies.

**Clarke 'The Sarcastic Nervous Supernova' Griffin:**    
A monkey could fall out of their weight division though.

 **Thesaurus Woods:**    
Did you gain ten pounds overnight?

 **Clarke 'The Sarcastic Nervous Supernova' Griffin:**    
Yes. 

Lexa snorts and Anya glances over from the driver's seat, keeping half an eye on the traffic lights ahead of them. She rolls her eyes when she sees Lexa on her phone. As she has been all week. Anya stopped asking who was messaging her when she connected Lexa’s forced non-smile with the Ark Manager. 

Raven says Clarke is just as bad, although her poker face is even more ineffectual than Lexa’s. She’s been lighting up like a christmas tree every time her phone dings.  


**Thesaurus Woods:**    
It’s ill advised for an individual in our profession to eat their feelings, Clarke.

Clarke smiles again. It feels strange, sitting in the dark space behind stage. But there it is. Lexa Woods makes her smile.

Across the stage Lexa can just make out Clarke's silhouette. They each have their own spotlight, a presenter with a microphone taking turns to ask them questions. She doesn't care what they're asking, her answers remain simple, direct. "How are you feeling?" _Prepared._ "Have you seen Clarke fight?" _Of course._

Lexa wants this all to be over. She tells herself she’s sick of hearing Clarke’s name, of picturing her every time she wraps on her gloves. Lexa never used to carry her phone everywhere with her. She tells herself she does so now because Anya sends her updates and suggestions at all times of day and night. (She knows that’s not true.)

Clarke's answers are hesitant but there’s a flash of a smile visible through the darkness. Clarke’s new to this. Lexa remembers what it was like, her first high profile fight. 

Clarke hasn't seen Lexa in over two weeks, hasn't even heard her voice. And she tries to tell herself she’s glad. The woman occupies too much of her thoughts. Even in her dreams they grapple, hard muscle and sliding skin. She wakes poorly rested, adrenalin pumping through her veins. She checks her phone straight after but doesn’t message Lexa. (Unless there’s already a message waiting for her reply.)

The PA creaks as the announcer asks her, "Woods has the experience, do you think you stand a chance?"

Clarke doesn't laugh but Lexa hears humour in her voice. "I wouldn't be here otherwise."

Lexa smothers her own unexpected smile, surprised by the light feeling. She should be building a picture of her opponent, weak and frightened. In her mind now, Clarke shimmers with strength. 

Lexa had let herself smile, in the dark as the last message came through just before they had to head out on stage.

**Clarke 'The Sarcastic Nervous Supernova' Griffin:**    
Thank you. 

Finally the questions seem to be done, and Clarke steps aside to make room as scales are wheeled out center stage to be calibrated in front of the crowd. She feels more nervous about this moment than any other. Stepping out in front of so many people, under a spotlight no less to strip down to her underwear and weigh in. She hasn't eaten in over twelve hours and now she feels weak and shaky.

Her name is called and she steps into the main spotlight. She can see Lexa now, she tries to focus on hating her.

But, her phone had vibrated one last time before she handed it over to Bellamy.  


**Thesaurus Woods:**    
You’re welcome

Now that they can see each other again, Clarke tries to look for a weakness in Lexa, an obvious flaw. She can't find one. As always, Lexa _The Commander_ Woods is perfect. She’s wearing something like war paint around her eyes, the black spread out to each temple, streaks flowing down her cheeks. Her hair is half caught up in elaborate braids, the rest cascading around her shoulders. 

She looks like a Roman warrior. 

Clarke takes another step, blood thundering in her ears, not sure she recognises the woman standing across from her now. She knows the crowd is cheering but she can't hear it; Lexa is examining her, eyes scanning her body. 

Lexa can see the panic settle in Clarke’s eyes. Worse than that, she remembers the feeling, understands it. The crowd, the people expecting her to fail, the people expecting her to succeed. She remembers imagining the woman on the other side of her spotlight, like a menace in the dark. 

A wave of feeling she can only describe as protective runs through her. _How_ and _Why her_ skips through her mind but she fails to shut down the feeling. No other fighter has done this to her. She is known as _The Commander_ for good reason. She accepts the name and has claimed it as her own. But Clarke…

(Clarke is her exception.)

Another step and Clarke feels a shake in her hands, a constriction tight around her chest and she can’t catch her breath. Lexa meets her gaze. Cool green eyes are filled with understanding, and then Lexa is coming toward her. Suddenly those calm eyes are right in front of her. The roar of the crowd swells then recedes. Clarke is paralyzed but Lexa is in front of her, their noses almost brushing. All she can hear is her own short gasping breath. 

They’re alone in a flood of fluorescent light.

Lexa is a gladiator, lip curled, shoulders set with hands seeming to grab for her. The ferocious glare and the threat are only for the crowd though. Clarke can see more; she can see the gentleness in her eyes. She can feel the soft breeze of a steady breath. She feels her own panic recede and the calm in Lexa's eyes becomes a smile. 

Lexa jolts her fist as if aiming to strike her but Clarke doesn’t flinch. She knows it's a fake-out and she's congratulated with an almost imperceptible nod. 

Lexa’s smile stutters then drops to a confused frown. Clarke wonders if maybe Lexa questions her own motives as much as Clarke has been overthinking her own. She feels the huff of a laugh against her cheek. 

“Only you,” Lexa murmurs with a small shake of her head.

Clarke blinks. 

Lexa sucks in a sharp breath and she falters over the words still ringing in her ears. 

Anya. Is going. To kill her. This is the time to be throwing Clarke off her game, finding weaknesses, not exposing her own. Not comforting her. She has to shift the balance back. 

(It’s too late.)

There’s understanding in Clarke’s eyes and when she takes a step toward her Lexa steps back automatically. Clarke leans in and Lexa’s heart leaps into her throat, faltering a step back again. The heat of Clarke’s body radiates into hers. 

“Commander,” she says, low and smooth. Another step.

“I hate you,” Lexa says, her voice higher than it should be. The mantra that has been with her for months trips over her tongue as she takes another backwards step. The crowd is erupting around them.

Amusement replaces the fear in Clarke’s eyes. “Liar.” Her smirk speaks volumes. _I can see right through you._

It’s the challenge Lexa needs and a snarl on her lips matches her dark glare. 

Before anything else can happen they’re pulled apart, commentators and referees stepping in to push them back to their corners.

//

**Clarke 'The Sarcastic Nervous Supernova’ Griffin:  
** I'm not nervous.

 **Thesaurus Woods:**    
Neither am I.

Raven makes a grab for Clarke’s phone, smirking at the messages. Clarke snatches it back with a glare. Raven is only being a shit because Bellamy and Lincoln are off handling something official, and Clarke is nervous. She says she's not nervous, she's just pacing. But she’s also drinking too much water. And Raven’s sure she’s imagining a lot of scenarios where she’s dropped in the first ten seconds.

Octavia is trying to distract her. “Lexa has a snaggle-tooth, you know.”

Clarke stops pacing for a second to look offended at Octavia's apparently poor vision. “She’s flawless and you know it.” 

Raven decides this could work and sides with Octavia (she would have anyway). “No, really. There's definitely some asymmetry there. You know this game is rigged. The ref will pick the prettiest fighter.”

Clarke laughs, continuing to pace. “Oh, and the living incarnation of Athena is the less pretty one?”

Octavia frowns. “You spend too much time with Bellamy, Clarke.”

Raven watches the pacing for another few seconds.  Clarke checks her phone, puts it down, paces then checks it again.

"Important message?"

"Hm? Oh, Lexa." Clarke's voice is unfocused as she reads the latest message. 

Raven shares a quick silent conversation with Octavia. “You’re in love with her, you know that right?” she says and Clarke finally stops.

Octavia looks at Raven like she's a fucking genius, which obviously she is.

“Definitely in denial,” Octavia agrees.

“This from the most loosely defined ‘best friends’,” Clarke surrounds the words with broad air quotes. “I have ever met.”

Alright, fair call.

Octavia throws an arm over Raven’s shoulder, standing on tip toes just to grab a handful of boob. “We're sexual beings, Clarke.”

Raven pats the hand that’s groping her chest. “Yeah, don’t try to contain me, Clarke, I don’t like your box.”

“Only because you prefer Octavia’s b—.”

Raven cuts her off. “Beaming smile. Yes. Don't you forget it," she says and reaches out to pull Clarke in closer to them. Clarke allows it and Raven pats her hand, staring Clarke straight in the eye. "Just don’t you forget Fourth of July 2013, Clarke. I know you haven’t forgotten Fourth of July 2013.”

Clarke and Octavia both nod solemnly. “Never forget,” they say together before cracking up because sometimes Raven likes to challenge Clarke to do naked things (and Clarke doesn't back down from a challenge).

Lincoln appears in the doorway as their laughter rolls into giggles. “What’s so funny?”

“Your girlfriend’s girlfriend is a ho-bag.” Raven kicks Clarke in the shin and Clarke hooks the weird pressure point on Raven’s prosthetic so the knee-joint pops outwards.   

"Rude," Raven says, straightening back up again.

Clarke goes back to her pacing and checks her phone which hasn’t actually lit up again yet.

Lincoln throws his arms around her and Octavia, pressing a kiss into Raven’s hair. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Clarke isn’t jealous of their relationship. (She’s very jealous.)

The rumbling through the doors increases then and Lincoln steps out of his three way embrace. “Time to tape up, Clarke.”

//

 

 

 

> _In all weight classes, the bandages on each contestant's hand shall be restricted to soft gauze cloth of not more than 15 yards in length and two inches in width, for each hand. The tape may cross the back of the hand twice and extend to cover and protect the knuckles when the hand is clenched to make a fist. Padded gloves are worn over the tape to protect a contestant's knuckles. Fingers are bare._

Thirty seconds in and Clarke is owning the ring. She can see it in Lexa’s eyes, can feel it. The round is hers. Lexa is dancing in frantic circles and she’s lost track of where she is. 

Dancing into range Clarke strikes out with two quick jabs. Lexa blocks a third but the fourth connects the edge of her jaw with no reply. Heart screaming, crowd bellowing Lexa dances back and Clarke follows, feints and jabs again. One strike, one block. Lexa swings for her jaw. Clarke’s light on her feet. But Lexa is faster and there’s a spray of blood from her mouth when Lexa’s left hook connects.

Lexa’s eyes are like fire, body of a goddess. (nowhere left to run.)

Minutes slip by, there’s blood on Clarke’s cheek. There’s more on her gloves. No chance for a takedown. Not yet. Clarke drives in harder. The grapple is her strength. Ground and pound. After the takedown. 

Lexa kicks out. Those damn dancers legs. And Clarke barely slips out of reach. There’s no guarding against a kick like that. 

She needs Lexa underneath her, belongs under her hips. She flits forward with quick jabs not meant to connect, a feathery touch of fingers just brushing Lexa’s skin. She throws a left elbow strike, Lexa jolts back and Clarke shoots in. She plunges her hand between Lexa’s thighs, links wrist to forearm and pulls up. Their bodies tied, she hauls Lexa off her feet with a grunt. 132 pounds goes up and Lexa topples sideways, gloved hands grasping at Clarke’s shoulders.

Clarke follows her to the floor, falls hard into Lexa’s body. The breath falls from both of them with an _oomph_ but they won’t stop. Clarke pushes through and her hips fall into Lexa’s before she’s driven down by their momentum, settling lower, her face pressed against Lexa's chest. 

Clarke pulls, grabs at whatever she can reach, until Lexa’s thighs tighten, biting in around her sides to pull them face to face. Chest to chest, Clarke resettles against her, body to body she hardly remembers that anything outside the ring exists. 

Lexa almost growls in frustration as Clarke mounts her, bruising strikes falling over her ribs. Clarke twists and pins her down with pressure to her sternum, hips pressing Lexa’s thighs up, high. Her knees are under Clarke’s shoulders, her leverage stolen along with her breath. 

To regain her control, Lexa wraps her fingers around Clarke’s wrist trying to push it down to the floor. Clarke levers sideways scrambling to grab Lexa's knee and push into her harder. Her style, loose and unpredictable, catches Lexa off balance again and Clarke’s hips drive into her spread thighs. Holy fuck. She tries to pull in a breath through clenched teeth as Clarke grinds down. A smoulder starts to burn low. 

The grip Lexa has on her wrist tightens. There will be finger shaped marks in her forearm and Clarke echoes Lexa’s sharp intake of breath. She tries to tuck her knees in under Lexa’s thighs and fails, falling higher into the cradle of her hips. Gasps fall from both of them as bones grind. Clarke has never felt so surrounded by another person. 

Lexa tries to buck her hips up and Clarke leans into the pressure to finally bring her knees up in front of her own shoulders, and pull her arm loose from Lexa’s grip. 

It’s the wrong move as Lexa pushes Clarke’s head sideways with her free hands. Clarke finds her face held between Lexa’s thighs and she thrusts her hand out to counter the powerful grip. She’s losing balance, Lexa's tense calves smoothing over her skin to bite around her rib cage, heels in the small of her back. 

There’s a ringing in her ears. 

She jolts and Lexa’s loosening hold tells her the buzzer has sounded and the round is over. Lexa relaxes further and the thought crosses Clarke’s mind that she doesn’t want to untangle herself just yet. With sixty seconds to recover for the next round she has to wonder if Lexa hasn’t hit her harder than she thought. The crowd, the cage – Clarke isn’t an exhibitionist but Lexa’s skin is hot, wet, and enticing. 

Lexa slides away from the woman tangled between her legs feeling dazed. She spits out the mouth guard into Anya’s waiting hand and Clarke stumbles back to her own corner. Anya leans across and interrupts their cross ring staring.

“What the fuck was that _Commander?”_ Anya is scowling at her as she lifts a bottle to spray water into her mouth. 

Lexa drinks deeply then accepts a chair so Nyko can check the cuts to her cheek. “Clarke’s rougher than I thought.” She's panting still.

“Rough!? She’s a fucking novice. You need to end this fight, Lexa. You’re letting a scared little girl with pretty eyes destroy you. Are you weak for pretty eyes?”

Lexa wants to tell Anya that Clarke’s eyes are more than just pretty but then Niko shines a little flashlight at her leaving streaks in her vision. She glances to the other side of the ring to see Clarke getting cleaned up too. Niko gives a stern nod and leaves the ring.

Anya smacks the side of her head and Lexa growls at her. “Are you weak, Commander?” 

“No!” Lexa shouts. She accepts her mouthguard between her teeth along with another smack upside the head. 

“Good.” Anya claps her hand on Lexa's shoulder. “Now stop being a weak fucking ballsack and woman the hell up!”

Ignoring Octavia's slapping her ass on the way out of the cage Clarke gears herself up, dancing around on her toes, arms dangling by her side. She nods once at Abby who’s mouth is firm as she gives the okay and follows Octavia out. Lexa stands more calmly now. Eyes cold hard, and refusing to meet Clarke's across the ring. 

The feeling of pinning Lexa beneath her is echoed over and again, the red raw of her knees a persistent reminder. She pushes them away as best she can. She dominated the first round. The second is hers to claim as well. 

The referee calls a start and they both jump back from each other. Lexa steps in again and Clarke steps out. They dance and sway together. Give and take. She can feel a gentle humour rising in her, the fighting fury long gone. 

Octavia joins Raven back outside the cage, leaning in close so their shoulders brush and they can talk past the noise of the crowd. 

"She okay?" Raven asks. Clarke can get a bit... Intense in a fight and a first round advantage only makes her worse.

Octavia shakes her head looking confused. "She’s ecstatic. She smiled."

"Huh." Raven lifts a hand to chew at her thumbnail.

"Don't, Rave." Octavia pulls her wrist away with a frown then links their fingers together. "The Commander was a mess."

In the cage now, Lexa is dancing away from Clarke but she's not moving in the off-balance way she was before. She's being cautious. She's planning. 

Raven says, "Anya will be happy," and Octavia leans in close to her lips. "Anya was pushing her for a strategic fight."

"Oh _Anya_ was pushing for strategy was she?" A gentle squeeze of their fingers softens her teasing. 

Raven nudges her hip against Octavia's anyway. "Just watch."

Raven watches as the cocky grin starts to fall from Clarke's face. She's fighting harder, moving faster than Raven has ever seen her. Lexa is sharp as a razor, every move calculated, precise. The years of training she has over Clarke are more noticeable now. Clarke is matching her as best she can, her movements rough, indelicate but powerful, backed by passionate conviction. 

They play off one another in a push and pull so balanced, they could be choreographed. 

The commentators’ voices roar through the auditorium. “Tight control meets wild fury and finds her equal.”

But Clarke's strength is in grappling. Lexa has the longer reach, and she’s setting the pace. She follows a spinning back kick with a fierce uppercut to Clarke's belly that sends her stumbling back, abdominals tensing with pain. 

Clarke surges forward again. Faster than Lexa expects, catching her off guard. A flying kick glances Lexa's jaw, but fast hands grab at Clarke's ankle, not catching but leaning in to push back.

Clarke feels her shoulders hit the cage then her ass as Lexa pushes into her, a knee slipping between her own. They fall and fit so closely together as Lexa jabs a fist into her side. Clarke will feel the impression for days. 

Their feet fall in line, thighs brushing. Clarke tangles their arms then pulls Lexa in. She can taste the salt of sweat as she presses against Lexa's shoulder and her head swims. She imagines biting down. She pulls the clinch tighter. 

Hips, arms and thighs shift, locking them together. Lexa’s stomach is hot and wet against hers so their breaths are shared. Knees brushing, they shift and undulate together, arms and thighs aching, trembling. Lexa’s breathing is erratic as she pants roughly against Clarke’s cheek, hot air mixing between them. One quick shift of weight will see Lexa flat on her back, Clarke pinning her down and pounding into her. 

She can feel every inch of hot skin; Lexa’s arms slick over hers. A hand cradles the back of Clarke’s head, fingers laced through her hair. They make eye contact as Clarke tries to strike at Lexa with her knee. They're too close though. Skin, flesh, bones, hot and close. All she can see is Lexa; lips and eyes, and everything within Clarke rises to meet her.

Milliseconds stretch with adrenalin-filled awareness and Clarke feels Lexa’s hesitation. A moment of calm reflection lights in Lexa’s gaze as they gasp to draw breath from the humid air. Cool green eyes flick down to her lips. Clarke swallows and Lexa’s eyes drift again to watch the bob in her throat. A drop of sweat falls down Lexa’s temple and over her jaw. 

Clarke’s skin is full, hot and alive. Lexa wants to explore every inch. The bead of moisture disappearing into Clarke’s top begs to be licked away. It would be so easy to lean in, trail her tongue from cleavage, to collarbone, to trail up the length of her neck and nip at the softer skin of her throat. Lexa swears the taste is already wet on her tongue. She can almost taste Clarke’s lips this close, as hot and soft as the skin already pressed against her. 

Clarke can feel sweat sliding down her own throat. Lexa watches the path it makes before her eyes come back up and then narrow with decision. Clarke wonders why a fighter with such incredible instincts would have to _decide_ anything. Then she feels the hair pull at the back of her head. 

The bleary haze still fogs Lexa’s mind but instinct is a wonderful thing. Instinct overrides her conscience. She knows what she has to do. It’s a feral move. Clarke will hate her. But she has to do this. 

Her hand is hidden between Clarke and the advertising board that’s hooked to the side of the cage. Twisting her fingers in Clarke’s hair, she sees recognition in Clarke’s eyes and hopes the hurt shining through is imagined. This isn’t personal. If it was she would never chose this. But her people come first. 

Clarke’s heel falls into the top of her foot aiming to knock her to the floor but she ignores the pain. With fingers locked into Clarke’s hair Lexa jerks her head down, lifts her knee once, twice, connecting kneecap with Clarke’s skull, just shy of her temple with a thudding crack.

Clarke’s body slumps, but Lexa has to end this now. If she doesn’t her resolve will crumble, she will let Clarke win. She has to end this. She lifts her knee again but doesn’t connect as arms wrap around her middle. The referee is lifting her off her feet and Clarke falls. 

When Lexa lands again, The crowd’s roar redoubles. She’s won, but Lexa doesn’t throw her hands up. She doesn’t stamp her feet. She waits. Watches Clarke fall sideways against the cage, eyes open but unfocused. Lexa ignores the thunder of stamping feet. She doesn’t move. She’s not stuck. She’s just… 

Clarke’s eyes are open and after three heart stopping seconds the bleariness in them clears. She meets Lexa’s gaze. And smiles.

Clarke’s head is still buzzing with impact and adrenalin but the effects are temporary. She was stunned, her brain too rattled in her skull to keep her feet. But she’ll be back to full strength soon.

With the way Lexa is looking at her, Clarke can’t be angry. Actually, she can be angry. She’s fucking pissed. But the way Lexa is looking at her Clarke knows she’ll get her payback and then some. 

She can’t help it; she smiles. 

Whatever hatred they’d been play acting before is completely gone. Many passionate feelings are coursing through her body. None of them are hate. The smile they share is intimate for a moment then covered over by Lexa's victorious grin for the crowd. She lifts both fists in the air bouncing a little on her toes. Clarke knows what she saw though. She can still see it. 

Lexa looks like a goofball, dancing around on her toes like a child reaching for the top shelf, not like a champion at all. 

Bellamy blocks her view of The Commander and she resists the urge to scold him. He asks how many fingers and she says 92 before getting to her feet. The world is stable and Bellamy pats her shoulder shaking his head with a smile. "Next time."

Clarke meets Lexa’s eye over his shoulder as she is presented with the gaudy belt. “Next time,” she agrees. 

//

Neither of them had any clue there were so many reporters there. Anya and Bellamy had shielded them from the wider attention that Sydney’s article had brought. But they step out of the cage and into a pit of microphones and cameras. 

Clarke goes first, smiling while refusing otherwise to acknowledge any one of them. Lexa is less polite and pushes them aside with a scowl. She wants to take Clarke’s hand so she won’t lose her in the crowd. She walks close behind instead, hating the obnoxious belt that’s separating them. 

Lexa wants to feel Clarke's heat again as she had throughout their fight. She needs to know what Clarke thinks of her. If Clarke hates her or understands what she did. Clarke doesn’t turn around again. She already made it clear that Lexa should follow.

Clarke can't concentrate on where she’s going. She can feel Lexa’s distracting gaze on her back and the distance between ring and lockers has never felt so long. 

Finally the crowd starts to thin and the unwelcome hands disappear from Lexa's shoulders. They push through swinging doors and Clarke curses when they find yet more people in the hall. 

“Keep up, Commander.” 

They start to jog through the milling spectators and Lexa laughs aloud at the grin Clarke turns to her. If it weren't for their distinctive fight gear, Lexa thinks the crowd wouldn’t recognise these girls, racing, dodging and laughing through the hallways. They play through the criss-crossing light of outside lamps like a game. 

Around the next corner there’s no windows facing the street, no lights to cut the dark corners. Clarke turns shimmering blue eyes on her and Lexa stumbles. Strong hands catch her up, Clarke's eyes even closer, the bloody cut to Clarke’s lip still shining. 

They both want the same thing, but Lexa hesitates. "Can I?" 

Clarke's nod comes faster than Lexa's words and she uses the hand already cradling Clarke's jaw to pull her in. Clarke meets her halfway and when their lips brush it's the gentlest touch they've shared. She stopped believing in story-book kisses and fairy tale moments a long time ago. She wonders if being wrong had ever felt so perfectly right.

The contact only lasts long enough for Lexa to register the soft sweetness of Clarke’s lips but Lexa still feels a flutter of something cool spread through her. She thinks of winning her first fight and the joy, the satisfaction of that moment. 

This is better. (Well, damn.)

Clarke can taste her own blood, Lexa's sweat, and something new – Lexa’s lips. The swooping sensation in her belly catches her off guard. With all the adrenalin, the physicality, she should have met her peak of feelings. But somehow this moment surpases anything else. 

“Wow,” Clarke blushes as the word flows over her lips and into Lexa’s but she’s met with an equally giddy smile. 

Lexa pulls away to test her willingness and Clarke pulls her in again immediately, their noses brushing before their lips reconnect. Their second kiss is softer, sweet and gentle. Then the wets of their lips meet. Lexa’s tongue flicks out and Clarke rises higher, meets the motion, tilting her chin to press in more firmly.

Lexa leads Clarke back toward the wall in gentle pressures. She wants to oblige but a far off noise catches her attention. She pulls back and Lexa almost follows until she becomes aware Clarke's retreat. Her cheeks are flushed a gentle pink, her gaze a little wary, the question there unassuming. 

"Not yet," Clarke says. Lexa smiles but steps further back, ready to pull away altogether and Clarke grabs her wrist. "I mean..." She gives up on words and just walks off toward the locker room, pulling Lexa along with her. 

Lexa's pulse thunders in her ears, churning low in her belly, and sending tingling pulses to her fingertips, to her toes. However she'd imagined their fight going, she could never have anticipated this, stumbling in through the door marked women's lockers, Clarke's grip tight on her wrist. On the other side Clarke pushes Lexa against the door. Her touch gentle but firm.

"Can I," Lexa says again, her hands drifting near Clarke's sides. Clarke nods and Lexa pulls at Clarke’s waist so their hips come together again for the umpteenth time that night. She grins, and Clarke’s smile makes her heart skip ahead. It must be the unfamiliarity of feelings that provoke her surprised gasp as Clarke slips a thigh between her legs. 

Their eyes meet and Clarke repeats Lexa's question. "Can I." 

Finding no trace of mockery, Lexa nods and Clarke grinds in, pinning Lexa to the locked door. Clarke’s eyes are twilight blue over crimson cheeks. Lexa thumbs the soft skin of her hip and Clarke looks down, shy no matter the deliberate way her thigh presses in.

“We shouldn’t be doing this.” Clarke returns her gaze to Lexa’s but doesn't lean away at all.

Lexa nods her understanding. “We’re professionals.” She tries to be serious but the high, ecstatic feeling is still making a swelling cloud of her heart. “This would be inappropriate.”

One of Clarke’s hands threads into Lexa’s hair, loosening the braids at the back. Enough to get a tight hold and Lexa gasps at a tug to her hair. Clarke’s smile pulls at one corner of her lips, her laugh so light Lexa is sure that Clarke must feel as high as she does. 

Gentle fingertips play around Lexa’s ear and down the angle of her jaw. Excitement and awe smooth from those fingertips, threatening to fill Lexa to overflowing.

Their third kiss falls into their fourth, bright and hot as summer sunlight. Lexa’s hands hold tighter and Clarke’s gentle trailing fingertips stroke something hotter, a smouldering heat filling her belly and spreading. Clarke changes the direction of their kiss and sinks further into her so they’re pressed inseparably close. Clarke sighs then, and Lexa moans at the taste.

She pulls her mouth away, leans back just enough to see Clarke’s eyes. “Bad idea, yes.”

“Yes,” Clarke kisses her. “But.”

“But I don’t want to stop.”

“And I want you to stay right where you are.”

Clarke presses her thigh in again and takes advantage of Lexa’s open mouthed gasp, tongue flitting over Lexa’s teeth. Clarke’s fingers are hot in her hair, other hand cupping her jaw, fingertips behind her ear. Clarke holds her in place with hands, lips and an insistent, moving thigh. The low smoulder inside her threatens to ignite, to set Lexa aflame, and without meaning to she lets out a whimper.

Clarke smirks and Lexa – remembering her own preference for control – rediscovers her strength momentarily forgotten. She grabs Clarke’s ass with both hands and directs her forward, guiding Clarke’s center in a slow lingering sliding pressure against her thigh. Their whimpers are matched, and lips disconnect as both of them gasp for air.

Clarke can feel her own pulse echoing through her body, every inch of skin alight with it. She’s aware of every bruise, cut and mark on her tingling skin but none of it registers as pain. She wants to get closer to Lexa but there’s no space left between them. She loses count of their kisses as they become wet, messy and urgent.

The light, rolling movements of their thighs side by side becomes more insistent. Lexa’s hands have shifted back to grip at her hips, thumbs hooked around the bone. Her fingers, splayed across bare skin slip into the waistband of her shorts.

Clarke settles into a steady rhythm against Lexa’s thigh and she might be embarrassed if Lexa wasn’t grinding against her in exactly the same way, if Lexa’s own hands weren’t directing that undulating pressure.

Lexa opens her eyes when she realises they’re closed and finds Clarke already watching her. Her pupils are blown to almost consume the blue and when she sees Lexa’s eyes she smiles. They both smile and then laugh. The next kiss is soft and brief, and the rocking pace of their hips picks up again, the soft glide becoming a firmer grind, hips chests and lips moving together.

“Clarke?” Lexa doesn’t know what she wants to say but her hands have drifted up Clarke’s sides to trace the edge of her crop top.

“God,” Clarke mutters and seems to tremble as she almost loses her rhythm for a second.

Lexa’s hands go back to her hips to ensure the steady rolling pace against her thigh. Clarke’s head falls against her shoulder and she pushes and pulls wondering at the sigh she pulls from Clarke’s lips. Blue eyes have fallen closed but Lexa still needs something from her.

“Off,” Lexa reminds her through panting breaths and Clarke does as she asks. Lexa feels a shiver go up her spine as the top is flung across the room.

Clarke smirks and takes over the back and forth pace of their grinding rhythm, pulling one of Lexa’s hands from her hip to press against her breast. Lexa desperately wants to feel her without gloves in the way but she’ll make do as is. She palms Clarke briefly, receiving a bit lip in reply. Raising her thigh into Clarke firmly, she feathers soft bare fingertips over a dusky nipple.

Clarke gasps, her mouth falling to Lexa’s jaw and kissing down her throat. Taught fingers trace the edge of Lexa’s top but it’s too late for that. There is no way she will be moving either of her hands from Clarke’s body. Not with the way Clarke is panting into her ear. Not with the way that Lexa can feel dampness through soaking through Clarke’s shorts with every undulation of her hips.

Clarke’s teeth graze Lexa’s neck and then her tongue soothes over the same spot, lips sucking in the skin. 

“Fuck, Clarke.” Sparks thread straight to her center but not even the sensation that pulses with her heartbeat can make her forget the reporters waiting for them back in the stadium. “No marks. Not yet.”

At the word ‘yet’ Clarke seems to shiver under Lexa’s hands and she picks up the pace herself with a, “Fuck, Lexa.” 

Lexa drops both hands back to Clarke’s hips and pulls her in harder, and faster. 

Cold concrete walls reflect the sounds of wet skin along with their own gasping breaths. Hard, measured and even, they push and pull. The same choreography that had connected them out in the ring, guides them now, faster, harder, in steady increasing measure. 

“Lex, I…” Clarke tilts her forehead against Lexa’s temple. 

Lexa nods once. “Me too,” she says. “It’s okay.”  

Clarke’s hand falls from Lexa’s hair to grip her shoulder. She’s holding her breath she’s so close and Lexa is desperate to follow her. The door thuds a little under her back. Her heels slip an inch and under Lexa’s insistent hands Clarke falls into her harder. Lexa happily takes most of her weight and directs the pressure for them both. 

”Fuck, right there,” Clarke gasps, clinging onto her. And Lexa knows exactly what she means because fuck right there is _right there_ for her too. 

The door creaks and clicks with their rhythm and Lexa can’t help but find it laughable and Clarke is the same, chuckling even as her feet lose all leverage. She holds to Lexa’s shoulder, her other hand groping Lexa through her top. A last desperate gasp is Lexa’s warning before Clarke shudders, her hips jolt and drop down, push up, and drop into her again. 

Clarke wraps both arms around Lexa’s shoulders, buries her face in tussled hair. Her shudders spark a chain reaction in Lexa too, both of them gasp and grind, flinch away then pull back in as they’re wracked with feeling and sensitivity and so much fucking pleasure Clarke never wants it to stop. 

Foreheads pressed together they both laugh as they have to pull from the contact.

“We should have done this ages ago,” Clarke says still panting.

“Mhm,” Lexa hums, and presses a kiss to Clarke’s cheek, too happy and satisfied for words. 

Clarke smirks at the contented smile. “Where’s that famous stamina, Commander?”

Lexa’s eyes snap open at her words and at the hand Clarke has slipped between them, trailing gentle fingertips up Lexa’s inner thigh. She laughs at Clarke’s cheeky smile. 

“Just catching my breath, Princess.”

Clarke pinches Lexa’s thigh. “Please don’t call me that.”

She considers arguing but doesn’t. Just nods and Clarke rewards her with fingers trailing higher. A quick twist and then the heel of Clarke’s hand is pressed against Lexa’s center pulling a gasp from her. She grabs Clarke’s wrist but doesn’t push her away, just holds her as Clarke applies a gentle weight. 

Without moving the heel of her hand, Clarke uses her fingertips to pull Lexa’s shorts up past the hem of her boyshorts underneath. She traces the soft skin at the very top of Lexa’s thighs and there’s a request in her eyes. Lexa strokes a finger on the back of Clarke’s wrist, willing to see where this goes. She knows Clarke will stop if she asks her too. _If I tap out_ , she thinks wryly. 

The small laugh at the back of her throat is cut off, not by Clarke’s touch but by a banging on the door they’re leaning against. 

“Lexa? Princess?” It’s Anya, with a smirk in her voice. “It’s time.” 

Neither of them move. Clarke’s fingers are still poised at the edge of Lexa’s underwear, Lexa’s hand tight around her wrist. Clarke knew this could happen and she’s glad at least that Anya didn’t arrive any earlier. Unless she did. Clarke’s cheeks heat with the thought and she means to pull her hand away but Lexa stops her. 

Warm fingers trace down her wrist, eyes holding hers until their fingers align, Lexa’s palm hot against the back of her hand.

“We’ll be out in a minute,” Lexa calls without breaking eye contact and Anya grunts before walking away, her footsteps receding quickly. 

“We should go,” Clarke whispers, but doesn’t move at all. 

“We should,” Lexa whispers back, though neither could explain the hush come over them. Like this moment is a secret they share. 

The hand on Clarke’s hip disappears and Lexa, without looking down or away holds her own underwear aside to guide Clarke’s fingers underneath the drenched material. Clarke fights to keep her eyes open as her fingertips slip into soaking velvet; she doesn’t want to miss a second of this. Lexa’s pupils are blown wide again, her lips parting around a shaky breath. 

Lexa’s resolve to stop almost crumbles when Clarke’s fingers drift lower to sweep in slow circles, but she manages to grab a hold of her wrist before things can escalate further. Clarke stops immediately. Her breathing is heavy but she’s paying close attention to all Lexa’s cues. She draws her hand back slowly across every sensitive inch, swirls over her clit once and then withdraws her hand altogether. Lexa isn’t laughing anymore. 

Clarke lifts her hand, two fingers glistening wetly. She pulls one then the other into her mouth, licking Lexa’s taste from her skin. Forget their fight, or the quick release they found in each other just now. As Clarke contemplates Lexa’s salty sweetness she knows their night has barely begun. 

But first they have to go out in front of a hoard of journalists and pretend they hate each other. 

Lexa’s fingertips trail up over Clarke’s hips and her stomach, over her breasts, to trace her collarbones then shoulders and finally settle on her arms.  

“You ready for this, Supernova?”

Clarke must see something in Lexa’s smirk because her jaw drops and she punches Lexa hard in the shoulder. “I knew that was you!”

Lexa chuckles as she rubs the sore spot on her arm. “You can punish me later, Clarke.” She winks and Clarke fights her own smirk. “For now. Clothes.”

Another punch falls on her arm, thankfully in a different place. 

//

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Domestic fluff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was meant to be a one shot...

"Great job, Jasper!" Clarke ruffles the little boy’s hair as he unfolds from a perfect tumbleturn. He looks away from her, already shy of girls, before running off to join Monty at the back of the line.

On the other side of the gym, Lexa is whipping her 10 year olds into shape with slightly less motivating encouragement. "Sloppy. Again. You, kid. No, not you. You. Run a lap."

Clarke waves Octavia over and asks her to finish the tumbler class for her. "Make sure they have some water," she says and wanders toward Lexa's group.

She dodges around Anya who is assessing a new recruit; Fox has some potential. Indra pretends she doesn't care about fresh meat but Clarke knows she'll be watching from upstairs.

When Clarke gets to her, Lexa is still shouting at the same troublesome girl. "Don't you argue with me, you little—."

Clarke puts a hand on her shoulder. "Lexa, sweetie?"

Lexa's voice cuts off at 'sweetie'. Clarke doesn't actually call her that; it's not a pet name so much as a code word. The signal to stop the words coming from her mouth before she or Clarke gets into trouble for them. Lexa sighs and Clarke asks the relieved girl to go back to training with the other kids.

"I wasn't going to call her anything bad." Lexa's frown softens as Clarke takes her hand to play with her fingers.

"Mhmm, and what were you going to call Diana Sydney's charming daughter?"

Lexa's shocked look makes Clarke smile. "No wonder she's such a bi-"

"Beautiful girl," Gustus cuts over her, walking within earshot then away to the locker rooms.

Lexa tries to look upset but fails and then laughs out loud. Grinning, Clarke sighs out her own laugh.

"What would I do without you?"

Clarke wonders, if she and Lexa had continued their miserable rivalry, if they had stayed in competition this whole time instead of joining forces against The Mountain, what that might look like.

She shrugs. "Oh I don't know. You’d probably run the second best gym in the city and be generally miserable?"

Lexa smacks her arm.

"Ow," Clarke laughs rubbing the mark. "Not in front of the kids."

"Oh really," Lexa says. “Not in front of the kids?” She steps in closer until they're sharing breathing space, noses almost brushing. "Really?" She teases, her voice falling into that low honey tone which always stirs Clarke’s butterflies. Clarke puts a hand on her hip and Lexa leans in so their thighs brush.

Before they’re lips can connect, a chorus of children's voices ring out all at once with, "Eeeew," followed by hysterical giggles. They step apart, Clarke's cheeks feeling warm.

Some of the laughter is more adult than the rest; Octavia is leading her five year olds in the group song of disgust. Lexa’s kickboxers are joining in because they’re little shits, with Anya, the queen of little shits encouraging them.

"Now children," Raven pretends to scold them all. "Affection between consenting adults is nothing to be grossed out by.” She pauses to make sure all the children are listening. They usually do. She and Octavia are like kid-whisperers. With every child in the room in her thrall she concludes her lesson, “That is unless the affection is between Supermanda slash Clexa in which case it's perfectly acceptable." The children laugh again. "And I personally think you can do better." The children nod and Raven lifts both arms like a conductor. "On three? One. Two."

Lexa looks ready to murder Raven but Clarke knows better than to fight it especially with Anya moving to stand with her girlfriend, looping an arm around Raven’s waist; she and Raven really encourage the worst in each other. (Clarke loves it almost as much as Lexa does).

Clarke hooks two fingers into Lexa’s belt loops and pulls their hips back together. With a backing-track of childish grumbling she sets a gentle kiss on down-turned lips. She feels the angry commander-frown melt into Lexa’s contented Clarke-smile and pulls back as the children reach a crescendo.

Fighting a grin as well as a blush Lexa looks to the ceiling and lets out a slow calming breath.

Clarke laughs. “You can’t handle these guys but you still want a puppy?”

“Puppies don’t talk back, Clarke.” The words snap out of her on automatic and then she grins as she sees Clarke’s teasing smile. “You’re distracting me.”

Clarke shrugs. “It’s either that or watch my girlfriend get frown lines.”

Lexa of course frowns at that. “Stop calling me old.”

“Stop yelling at children like you’re old.” She walks away, heading to her office to finish up for the day and Lexa follows.

(She always does.)

“You know, a puppy could help teach me patience.” It’s Lexa’s usual argument.

“Or, it could chew up all of our things and drain the calm, nurturing vibes from our home.” Clarke walks into their office and holds the door open for her before closing it behind them, muffling the sounds of children playing.

“Our puppy wouldn’t dare.” Lexa’s voice is stern but her eyes are soft,

“Our puppy?” Clarke repeats. The words in Lexa's soft voice curl gently around her and Clarke feels her resolve melting. She imagine the cute little pup with underwear caught between its teeth.

Lexa nods, smiling as if she's seen into their future and found a furry little face staring back at her. This sentimental look always makes Clarke want to give in and as Lexa's contented smile grows she starts to forget why she was arguing against a puppy in the first place.

Lexa must see the edge of weakness. “Our, adorable fur-child, Clarke.” She pulls her in with a hand on each hip. Clarke falls into the embrace, taking up a braid from Lexa’s shoulder to play with. “Can’t you imagine it? A nice, sweet pup we can love and cherish always. With your hair and my nose.”

Clarke’s laugh falls out as a harsh bark.

“Yes, and your laugh to,” Lexa teases. Clarke tugs on her hair but doesn’t fight the gentle kiss Lexa presses to her lips.

She kisses her back and sighs. “Maybe we can go look at the shelter.”

Lexa kisses her again. “Yeah, maybe we ca— what?” Lexa leans back so fast Clarke thinks she hears something crack. “Really?” Lexa eyes light up and she knows the fight is lost.

“I said we can look, Commander.”

Lexa nods but she’s barely listening. She kisses Clarke distractedly, grinning like a fool and staring off into the glittering future again.

“Things looking bright wherever you are?” It’s Clarke’s usual question when Lexa falls into her blissful far-away stare.

Lexa looks back at her and she’s returns to the present. Her eyes shimmer with happiness. Smile warmer than summer skies. She’s staring at Clarke like she’s never wanted anything more than this, than them talking about their future together. Clarke feels the warmth of that smile all the way to her toes and knows that her own expression is just as groan-worthy.

**  
**“Yeah,” Lexa says. “Things are looking pretty nice from here.”

 

//

 

Pacing up and down the narrow strip of concrete, Lexa looks like a general, a commander inspecting her troops. She reads every name card, finger tracing over age, health, quirks and requirements. She pauses to linger at some more than others and moves on.

Clarke is not a fan of all the barking, the dog smell of the shelter. She's still not convinced this is a good idea, but Lexa was so excited, prattling in a persistent stream of words the whole way here.

"We'll train her up and she'll be perfect, and perfectly ours."

Clarke drove, hummed and yes'd at the appropriate intervals.

Raven's voice was in her head the whole time, “You've never even kept a plant alive, Princess.”

She'd told Raven that a dog was different, that she took care of her staff well enough and that she'd have help. Lexa would supervise.

“Did you just compare us to dogs?” Octavia hadn't even been a part of the conversation but apparently her hearing is somewhat dog-like.  

Now she's here, Clarke feels even less certain. Lexa has so much love to give she's surely already adopted half the dogs in her mind. "Look a baby Lab, Clarke. Look at his big feet." She's so excited about every little pup she sees, she doesn't even notice the volunteer falling over herself at meeting The Commander.

"Oh my gosh his name is Bruiser. Look at him." She presses her fingers against every cage so the dogs can snuffle at her hand and the way her eyes light up make Clarke's heart feel too big in her chest.

Clarke turns to a wall with flyers and public notices across a cork board. There are cats and kittens available too it seems, and they're looking for donations. A no-kill shelter is always under-resourced.

Lost in her thoughts she jumps a little when strong arms wrap around her middle and Lexa presses against her back to gentle a kiss to her cheek. "Puppy for your thoughts?" She nuzzles into Clarke's hair.

Clarke breathes out a small laugh and she can feel Lexa's smile against her cheek. "I might just take the penny."

The smile falls and Lexa pulls back enough to walk around Clarke's body, hands tracing her waist. 'You're still not sure?'

Clarke wants to say that, of course she's sure, that she wants to do this, but really she's not certain. Lexa has this way of seeing the future as such a clear and beautiful thing. She knows everything will be okay. “I'm sure about you,” Clarke says because that's all she knows right now.

"But?"

"It's just so settled and domestic."

"We bought a washing machine together last month, and new curtains for the living room just yesterday. We're pretty domestic." Lexa punctuates the teasing with a squeeze to her hip and Clarke leans into her touch.

"I know."

Lexa presses a kiss to her lips, warm and comforting. "If you're not ready, we'll just give a donation, I'll pat some dogs cause I can't look at all these precious faces without a little puppy love, and we can go home."

"You're not disappointed?"

Lexa kisses her again, deeply and Clarke feels more than a little breathless when she pulls away.

Lexa's cheeks are pink. "I have you. I could never be disappointed."

Clarke laughs and turns away. "Always the charmer."

Lexa kisses her cheek. "Go say hi to some dogs, I'll see the volunteers about donating something."

Clarke nods and lets her go feeling lucky and happy, and also ready to take Lexa home to tear off all her clothes soon please. For now, she wanders over to the row of cages. A Jack Russell named 'Beakie' growls at her, a German Shepard with 'Jessie' on her plaque looks up from the blankets and sighs before going back to sleep. She smiles at 'Bruiser', a  Maltese/Shih Tzu with permanent stink face. A Greyhound licks her fingers without warning, his long nose sneaking between the chain links.

She gets to the end without really stopping to say hi to any of them, and rounds the corner. 'Long term rescues' is on a sign bolted to the wall. Clarke walks up the row and sees lots of little dogs, either hostile and biting at the cage, or sad and curled at the back in their bedding. Finally, she gets to the last cage.

'Dag' is listed as her name. She sits in the middle of the pen, head tilted, looking at Clarke curiously. Blonde fur and grey-green eyes make her stop. She tilts her head and the dog mimics her. Clarke steps back a little and the dog shuffles back a step without leaving her haunches. It makes Clarke laugh and the dog lets out a quiet yip.

"Cute," Clarke says. "You weirdo."

At that, Dag stands and wanders to the front of the cage. Without thinking about it, Clarke sits down on her haunches and holds the back of her hand out for the dog to smell.

//

Lexa leaves administration, the smiling volunteer happy to let Lexa drown in puppies if she so chooses after the cheque she just wrote up for them. Lexa would have loved to take a puppy home today, but she's happy with this, happy to go home with Clarke.

Reaching the dog row, a chorus of barks starts up, some of the puppies trying to join in with little yips and making Lexa smile. There's no sign of Clarke though. The volunteer wanders off, asking her to come ask if she needs anything. Despite the wink and innuendo, Lexa says she will then walks up further, looking for Clarke.

Her girlfriend hadn't seemed that enthusiastic but maybe she found a puppy to talk to. Lexa finds her with the long term dogs. The ones that aren't finding homes because they're older or difficult in some way. She's sitting on her heels letting a strange mutt of a dog sniff her hand.

Clarke doesn't look up. "How'd it go?"

"Good. Want to introduce me?"

Clarke grins at her then, eyes shining so bright Lexa has to bite down on the poetry threatening to fall from her. Clarke has heard it all before and Lexa is no poet.

"Sure," Clarke says and then adds with a quizzical look, "What?"

"I just love you very much," she says.

"I love you too."

"That's convenient." They grin at one another for a few moments before Clarke looks back to the dog she's now scratching behind the ears. "Dag, this is my beautiful girlfriend, Lexa. Lexa, this is Dag."

Lexa crouches down next to Clarke to see Dag more clearly. She's pretty rough around the edges; she has a chunk of  ear missing and scars on her sides. But her tail is wagging frantically, whipping against the wall. And Clarke is looking at her with equal measures curiosity and love.

Of course Clarke would find the scariest looking dog to fall in love with. Lexa supposes it's better for the shelter to adopt an adult dog rather than a puppy. She quashes the thoughts of before and after puppy to dog Christmas photos and takes Clarke's hand.

"You like her?"

"What do you mean?" Clarke's smile is so soft when Dag licks her hand. Lexa just waits for her to look up and Clarke reads her expression. "Oh. I thought you wanted a puppy?"

"I want a family." Lexa shrugs. "You and me." She nods at the dog, some kind of combination of Staffy, terrier, sheep dog and Shetland pony that defies categorization. She notes that Dag is two years old and probably won't accept a name change. Or a bed anywhere not occupied by humans, or time alone, or tin dog food. Of course.

Clarke follows her gaze to the name tag and details. "They'll give us her raw dog food for a month," she says and Lexa knows it's decided. They're taking this one home.

She will give Clarke anything that's in her power to give. They stand together, Dag sits down, tail wagging. She's just staring at them; Clarke's picked a weird-ass dog.

"I'll go find the volunteer," Lexa sighs and gives Clarke's hand a squeeze.

Before she can take a second step Clarke uses the same hand to pull Lexa back into a heated kiss. She sinks into it, her hands moving to hold Clarke's hips, thumbs tracing under the edge of her shirt. Soft and slow Clarke kisses her thanks and love into Lexa's lips.

"Our family?" Clarke says, her forehead tilted to Lexas.

Lexa laughs, happiness bubbling up in her chest. "Yeah, our family."

//

They don't get to have sex when they reach home, Dag doesn't allow it but they do cook dinner together. Lexa chops ingredients, Clarke stirs and directs the herbs and spices.

"Anya's already bought a ring," Lexa says and Clarke grins over the spaghetti pot.

"They might have to stop sleeping with O and Lincoln," she says, but they both laugh because of how unlikely that seems.

"Don't put me in your box," they quote in unison then share a kiss over the chopping board.

Dag watches them from the door, lying down with a huff when no scraps come her way. With everything on simmer Clarke pulls Lexa in. "My lady," she says in a snooty accent and they dance in silly circles to music from the living room.

After the dishes are washed and away Lexa pulls Clarke to their bed. Dag is surprisingly accepting this time and leaves them be until they collapse naked and panting on top of tangled sheets.

After a second of deep breaths, the bed dips and a big doggy tongue licks across Lexa's boob. She yelps, pushes Dag off the bed and ducks under the blankets. Clarke laughs and laughs, while Lexa grumbles something about 'most un-erotic thing ever',

Clarke agrees and climbs in under the blankets muscling Dag to the foot of the bed when she tries to snuggle on their pillows too. "Good girl," she says then adds, "You too, Dag, good girl."

Lexa snorts and emerges from under the blankets to tackle Clarke into a full body hug. "I hate you," she murmurs in a soft voice and Clarke smiles. They kiss long and passionate but pull away soon enough, needing to sleep. Those 7:30am kids classes Lexa pretends to hate won't run themselves.

Lexa sets an alarm for them both, then remembers she forgot to put the leftovers away in the fridge. When she tries to pull away, Clarke grumbles and pulls Lexa tighter into her body. "No moving," she says and Lexa relents to being the little spoon.

She kisses Clarke’s fingers one at a time and says "Okay."

The leftovers can wait for a few more minutes.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Artwork from the wonderfully talented Emclainable coming soon. I couldn't have gotten this finished without her beautiful self cheerleading me on and adding different pieces. Come say hi on tumblr. I'm dancetyd, she's Emclainable there too.


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